Perfect Mess
by JennaBennett
Summary: Answers the question that no one asked – what if Michael unwittingly got the cocktail party cancelled and Jim ended up in the bar with his co-workers? 'Cocktails' with a twist.
1. Chapter 1

Jim swallows his relief at Dwight's call. They're halfway out the door when his phone trills and he shouldn't be surprised as Dwight states matter of factly that the party is off –

"David Wallace is indisposed. Michael poisoned him."

"No, no, no! Shut up, Dwight!" Jim hears Michael interject in the background. There's a tussle and Michael's voice echoes in his ear, louder now, having clearly taken possession of the phone. "It's store bought. The store poisoned David Wallace."

Jim doesn't have to be there to see Dwight shaking his head as he barks, "I told you not to leave it in the car all day."

"Dwight," Michael groans. "Give me back my shirt." Jim's going to leave that one alone. "You don't deserve it."

"Fact. Potato salad contains mayonnaise. Mayonnaise needs refrigeration or it curdles. It's basic food hygiene one-oh-one," Dwight scoffs.

"Just don't come, Jim," Michael sighs. Jim knows these people too well – case in point he knows that Michael is furrowing his brow and glaring at Dwight by the tone of his voice.

"Thanks for the heads up," Jim replies courteously. "See you tomorrow."

He's already hanging up as Michael's, "have a good one, Jimbo," floats over the line.

Of course Michael has unwittingly gifted their boss food poisoning with day old potato salad. Jim can fill in the blanks, he doesn't need Dwight and Michael to spell it out. There will be no cocktail mixer with the corporate bigwigs after all – not with their host currently bowed over porcelain ridding his body of Michael's well-intentioned gesture. It's rude to show up to a fancy cocktail party empty handed after all… It's Michael Scott manners basics. Jim muses that Wallace probably would have preferred for Michael to have missed the memo on that one.

He relays the conversation to Karen, who has caught most of it anyway. She rolls her eyes and mutters curses under her breath at the news before lighting up with an idea –

"We're already dressed up. Let's not let it go to waste. Let's go out for dinner," she beams.

Jim hopes his wince is imperceptible. He catches the scowl before it forms and aims for casual indifference instead. He'd really rather _not_. He thought he'd grow into this more _adult_ persona he's been projecting, but he finds the more he lives like this the more he hates it. He wants to put on a ratty tee and sweats and hang out on the sofa.

He rubs the back of his neck surreptitiously… "or, we could head to Poor Richard's. I promised Kev I'd come see his new band sometime and they're playing tonight, so…" he trails off, not bothering to clamp down on the tinge of hopefulness colouring his words.

Karen groans. He levels his best puppy dog eyes in her direction. "Fine," she relents. "But you're buying, Halpert." He shrugs and flashes her a wide smile. He'll take his wins where he can get them these days.

He feels her patience with Scranton and its cast of characters – _one_ particularly stands out – is wearing thinner each day. She's on the cusp of an ultimatum, he's not blind to it looming in the wings. Her time in Scranton is finite. Maybe his is too?

Now isn't the time to ponder possible futures though, it's the time to embrace the parts of Scranton he still unashamedly enjoys, like his quiet, steady friendship with his somewhat bumbling, but larger than life colleague. He knows that Kevin is going to be delighted that he made it after all. He clears his mind and focusses on the drive instead.

Entering the bar, his heart plummets from its home in his chest to the floor to find Pam and _Roy_ seated at the counter. He curses Michael and his tainted potatoes.

Pam and Roy back together was one thing. Having to actually _witness_ Pam and Roy back together was a whole other thing… Quite frankly, he couldn't stomach it. Even the thought of it filled him with a rage he wasn't sure he possessed.

He wondered how obvious it would be if he suddenly backflipped on the plan that moments before he had been so keen to bring to fruition? She would notice – she always seemed to notice when it came to Pam now. He decided his best approach was to sullenly suck it up and press on.

In one way, it was a silver lining that he barely talked to Pam now, it meant he wouldn't have to fake small talk with Roy. A nod and maybe the briefest of hellos and that would be the extent of their interaction. Karen would silently stew if he so much as said _hi_, but that he could deal with.

He clasped Karen's hand in his and pretended he didn't notice the way it was too angular and sharp in comparison to that one time ice skating on Michael's birthday and a different hand had slotted to his like a missing puzzle piece, bulky gloves and all. He took a step closer to the bar, their entrance still unnoticed by his colleagues.

Another step brought him close enough to hear Pam softly addressing Roy – "remember that casino night, about a month before we were supposed to get married?"

Jim's feet froze. It was a night he was having a hard time forgetting, no matter how much he willed it away. Karen stumbled into the back of him.

"I kissed Jim."

His lungs stopped drawing air. Karen tugged his arm impatiently.

"What?" whistled from Roy.

"He told me how he felt and I guess I had feelings too and we kissed."

The bile rose in his throat. Karen's gaze flickered from Jim to the back of Pam's head, brow furrowing in confusion.

"Jim came onto you?" Roy's tone indicated that he wasn't a fan of this titbit.

"Just listen," Pam entreated.

Jim was listening. He'd never listened this hard in his life. Karen was listening too. He could feel the steam rising.

"No, I am listening… and that's the problem I'm listening," Roy hissed.

Pam recoiled slightly. "Don't yell," she murmured.

"Don't. Yell." Roy leant forwards, slamming his hand onto his glass and sending it shattering into the back of the bar.

"This is over," Pam stated fiercely, getting to her feet.

"Yeah. You're right, this is so over!"

Pam spun sharply, eyes wide with fear – widening further still as she stumbled into Jim. The feel of her flush with him brought him back to life and he sucked in a sharp intake of air, his limbs unsticking. He reached out and caught her by the shoulders, ignoring the waves of disapproval rolling off of Karen.

"Jim," she breathed, the shock of her gaze shifting to something softer before catching Karen in her periphery and the downcast mask that she wore so often lately floating back in.

"Are you kidding me Pam. C'mon," Roy bellowed. He grabbed another glass off the counter and hurdled it into the wall. He rose unsteadily to his feet to reach for the next glass. Another crash echoed moments later, sending shards of glass shooting haphazardly around the bar. He turned, eyes black and breath coming in short exerted puffs.

He locked eyes with Jim.

For a split second the world stood still.

"I'm going to fucking kill you, Jim Halpert!"

Everything moved.

Roy plunged towards him. He tried to spin Pam behind him, but she stood firm, twisting in the cove of his body to face the coming thunder. "Pam," he hissed frantically, nudging her to move. She gripped his wrist tightly and positioned herself between him and the incoming fists.

"Roy," she ordered firmly. "Stop."

Kevin materialised beside them, Oscar flanking him. "Yeah man, chill out," Kevin drawled in cautious warning.

"Pammy. Move." It was more roar, than words.

She stood firm. Jim tried to step around her, but she held her arm out stopping him. Her other hand flew to press resolutely against Roy's chest. "No," she growled. "It's my fault, not Jim's."

Roy vibrated with anger, it reverberated through Pam, Jim could feel it shaking the hand pressed into Roy to the one steadying him. Or maybe she was trembling?

"It's my fault," she repeated decisively. "I called off the wedding for a lot of reasons," she sighed. "You know that," her eyes were locked with Roy's, pleading.

"He fucking kissed you," Roy seethed.

"Yes, and I kissed him," Pam stated matter-of-factly. "And I wanted to do it again, so _I_ called off the wedding."

Roy staggered forward, driven by the weight of his rage. Beside them, Kevin straightened to his full height and angled his shoulder between Pam and Roy. Her hand dropped and Kevin floated further between them. Roy's brother stumbled to his side and squared his shoulders, pressing closer to Pam and Jim.

"I think you should go, man," Kevin muttered to Roy. "It's not worth it." Roy levelled him with one final glare, his eyes drifting to Pam and then Jim. He caught Karen in the periphery and snorted derisively.

"I can't believe you're throwing your life away for this loser and he has a fucking girlfriend."

Jim didn't miss the way Pam's face fell further still at Roy's parting shot.

"I told you she was a slut," Kenny offered loud words of comfort as they retreated. Jim felt his fingers unconsciously twist to form a fist and he half-stepped towards him. Pam's small hand locked around his wrist and steadied him.

"He's really not worth it," she murmured.

As Roy left, so did the confident, braver side of Pam. She started trembling in earnest, sinking on folded knees towards the less than sanitary floor. Jim caught her under the elbow. At his touch, she gasped, and levelled him with watery eyes. "I'm sorry," slipped from her lips, barely a whisper. "I just thought that it wasn't fair that he didn't know the truth."

"That was quite a show," Karen's sharp words cut through the tension like a knife – only serving to divide the air around them into two tangibly separate sections of uncomfortable and awkward. Her gaze withered on Jim's hand, still clasping Pam's arm. "We should go."

"Don't go yet," Pam spoke softly to Jim's chest. They could both sense Karen bristling at her words. "Neither of them can drive. Roy can't afford another DUI. They'll still be waiting for a cab in the parking lot," she clarified quietly.

Jim wasn't ready to leave anyway. He was too lost to his thoughts.

He replayed the past several minutes in his mind. He couldn't seem to get past that moment at the beginning. Pam had said feelings, right? _I guess I had feelings too_. He mentally berated himself. He was misinterpreting things again. He'd misheard or misunderstood or something…

Her words from the parking lot last May taunted him. They were _friends_.

Karen groaned. "Fine. But I need a drink."

Oscar slipped his arm around Pam's waist and led her to a booth. She went without protest, but her eyes stayed wide and unfocussed on Jim. She shuffled clumsily onto the bench seat. He tried to ask her wordlessly, _are you okay_? Her slight headshake only gutted him further.

_We kissed_, his memory roared, not _he kissed me_. Did that mean something?

Beside him, he heard Karen ask the bartender for a white wine and a beer. The bartender paused from picking up chunks of glass to serve her. Jim continued to gape at Pam. She continued to gaze at him.

The bell on the door tinkled slightly. "Hey Halpert," Roy roared as he strode back in. In the time it took Jim to turn, Roy's fist connected with his jaw with a sickening thud.

"Roy. No, Roy!" Pam screamed, already on her feet. Oscar grabbed her arm, holding tight.

Jim's instinct was to clutch at his face. Roy wound his fist back and struck again, Jim doubled over as the hit sunk into his stomach. As Roy pulled his hand back to go for another shot, Kevin encircled him, pinning his arms to his side. Toby appeared from Jim had no idea where and helped Kevin push a struggling Roy out the door. "Don't make me call the cops, man," Kevin threatened, blocking the doorway with his bulk.

With Roy's exit, Pam shrugged Oscar's grip and fell to her knees beside Jim. "Jim," she pleaded, eyes wide with unshed tears. "I'm sorry," she gasped.

Karen abandoned the drinks on the counter to reach for him. Her hand brushed his shoulder and he flinched. She pulled back abruptly. "I'll get you some ice," she murmured. Jim nodded mutely in response, tensing as the movement flexed his aching jaw.

The bartender anticipated her move, handing Karen a handful of ice wrapped in a tea towel. "Can you guys let me know if this is gonna be a regular occurrence so I can get security in on a Thursdays as well as the weekend?"

He was met with a tired sigh. "Let's hope not."

Pam's hand rose to wipe at the tears that had begun to spill down her cheeks. Somehow instead of dropping back to the floor, it floated over to him. She brushed at his jaw gingerly with the tips of her fingers. Jim's eyes slipped shut and he found himself canting towards her touch.

"I'm sorry," she whispered again.

He shook his head, gasping a sharp intake of breath as the movement pressed her fingers into the rapidly forming bruise encompassing the side of his face. "Don't," he hissed, part pain, part annoyance – because it wasn't her fault, but at the same time everything to do with Roy was somehow her fault in his mind, she was the one who left Phyllis' wedding with him…

Despite the tears, her tone was suddenly serious, sincerity painting each word in careful, painstaking clarity. "I need to clear something up," she worried her bottom lip between her teeth and levelled him with a gaze that broke through the carefully constructed walls he'd been living behind since the casino night. "I lied to Roy before. I told him there were a lot of reasons to call off the wedding, which was true enough, but I need _you_ to know that none of those reasons mattered until I met you."

The pain echoing through his physical body dulled. A new hurt spread through him that felt an awful lot like regret. Not that he'd told her how he felt on casino night, although he'd certainly spent some time regretting that as he faced an empty existence in Stamford. No, this was a new regret, a screeching painful regret that informed him that he hadn't given things time to fall into place. He'd made declarations and then disappeared. He'd left her with no time to digest. He'd left her with no time. He'd left her. He'd _left_.

A new thought struck him, something he'd never stopped to consider before… The possibility that maybe he held a share of the blame as to the heartache that had been his life for the past few months. Pam had called off her wedding for _him_? And where was he?

He wanted to say something.

He met her eyes and hoped that they managed to convey more than his lips were capable of forming. She locked her gaze with his and he recognised a newness to her stare, a steely determination that radiated from her.

"Pam," he tested her name out like he was saying it for the first time.

"Jim," she replied so gently that it ached. Her hand rose and cupped his jaw again. He leaned further into her touch, her cool hand a welcome relief to the throb.

A throat cleared behind him and Pam's hand dropped with a guilty glance over his shoulder, but as her eyes drifted back to his, he saw that the fierceness remained. Fancy new Beesly indeed.

It took him far longer than it should to register that the throat clearer was Karen – his girlfriend. A fact he had to remind himself as she pressed a carefully wrapped handful of ice into his palm. He clutched it to his tender jaw.

"Let's go." It didn't sound like a question.

Kevin less than subtly swung his head around the carpark before giving Jim a bright thumbs up. It appeared the cab had hustled Roy and his brother away and the coast was clear.

Jim shot Pam a pleading final look that he hoped communicated everything left unsaid, especially that they weren't done with this conversation. She gave him her best nervous smile in response, her lips twisting in much the same way they had when she'd whispered _me too_ on the casino night and for a split second he'd thought maybe everything he was hoping for would eventuate. The pang of regret floated through his awareness and settled firmly into his mind.

Karen nudged him forward and his feet obediently followed. His thoughts bucked the trend and remained firmly in the middle of the bar, lost to that little smile of Pam's.


	2. Chapter 2

He expected fury. He expected to have another _conversation_. Instead, he was met with stony silence for the entirety of car ride home. He watched her carefully from the corner of his eye as she glared at the road.

It took every ounce of self-control he had not to think about Pam too loudly. He knew he was failing. The silence roared with the thoughts of _her_. The air was thick with everything left unsaid.

He gingerly swapped the ice from his jaw to his ribs, a groan slipping from between his lips. Karen – _his girlfriend_, he reminded himself as he rolled the way Pam had said his name over and over in his mind – swung her gaze to him momentarily and sighed. Her expression softened as her eyes roamed his swollen face. He tried to smile, but his heart wasn't in it and she knew it, her eyes drifted back to the road.

She pulled into his drive and made no move to open the car door. The ultimatum that he'd felt lingering loomed heavily over their heads. He waited her out for a few moments, before tentatively pushing his door open. Has she pressed him even yesterday, his chips may have fallen her way. But now… He rose from the car. His pain was a double-edged sword. Each step caused him to grimace and each twist of his lips set his jaw on agonising fire.

Despite this, he took the few extra steps to open her door. It seemed to jolt her out of the impeding conversation that had her rooted to her seat. She slowly shook her head, her hair slipping from behind her ears to drape over her eyes. He extended a cautious hand and neither missed the way she pretended she didn't see it as she climbed from the car.

His hand dropped limply at his side. "I'm sorry?" he offered and winced as he heard the question radiating from his words.

"Are you?" she murmured. "What for?"

_Loving Pam_, his mind whispered. "Umm," his mouth added helpfully.

Karen laughed harshly. "Sorry that the girl you had feelings for, has feelings for you and told the guy who has feelings for her in front of the girl who has feelings for you?"

Jim gaped at her in response.

Karen eyed him carefully for a moment. "I hope I don't regret this this," she breathed.

"Don't," he choked and hated himself a little for the lie in it. He didn't want to have _the_ fight, he wasn't sure what he was fighting for. _Pam called off her wedding for you_ churned over and over in his mind as Karen levelled him with a look that spelled the end.

"Jim. I really like you, but I'm not sure I can stick around for this high school drama any longer. There's one too many people in Scranton and I think that the one might be me. I'm going ask Wallace if there are any positions open in any other branches." She paused and eyed him cautiously, "if you want to ask too, I'd like that," her face fell, "I don't think you will though."

He took a deep breath that hinted at regret, but the aftertaste was pure relief.

"Karen," he pleaded weakly.

"No," she stated fiercely. "Don't lie to us both. I'm not your first choice. Don't try to fix this if you're not serious about it." Her face fell ever so slightly as he made no further attempt. He hung his head, ashamed at how little he wanted to work things out with Karen and how obvious it was.

She pressed his car keys back into his hand and pulled her own set from her bag. "I can't be your rebound any longer, Jim."

"I.. you're… I'm sorry, Karen," he mumbled, his hand rising to rub the back of his neck contritely – her statement cut to the heart of their relationship, there was no point denying it any longer. She hummed a reply and settled into her car. Moments later the engine roared to life and she was gone.

Jim was left standing in his drive clutching his keys in one hand and a soggy ice towel in the other. His gaze swivelled from his keys to his rapidly melting ice and back again. Everything ached – his head, his chest, his arms, but it all paled in comparison to the frantic thudding of his heart.

It slammed into his ribcage over and over again, drumming out a resounding reminder of its presence. It took him a few minutes of staring at the keys in his hands to hear the message it was pounding out. It called him to action.

He shuffled his way to the drivers seat and retraced the path he had travelled with Karen earlier that evening. He drove on autopilot, huffing a heavy puff of frustration to find Pam's car gone.

He didn't know her damn address.

Jim felt the momentum that had been fuelling him deflate. He didn't know where she lived and had lived for months. If that wasn't the ultimate slap in the face letting him know just how horribly out of touch he'd been recently. She'd called off her wedding for _him_ and he had been icy and distant at best. His best friend and he didn't know a thing about her life now…

Short of calling Toby and begging for her address which was bordering on creepy, he wasn't sure what to do. He settled back into his seat and inched the accelerator down.

It wasn't long before he pulled back into his drive – again.

He was met with an eerie sense of deja-vu as he pushed his front door closed. His thoughts were interrupted as his phone sprung to life and of course it's Dwight again because why wouldn't it be.

"Jim," there's no preamble with Dwight. "Pamela, who resides at 103 Maple Drive, phoned to tell me that she is concerned the oaf from the warehouse will cause her trouble. She requires male protection. So, she called me," pride swells in Dwight's tone. "Unfortunately, I am now also indisposed. You must take my place." The calls ends before he has a chance to respond.

He's back in his car before he even thinks to set his keys down.

His heart once again reminds him of its existence as he parks parallel to the curb. He swallows it back down as it threatens to escape from his chest. His feet carry him to her door. His mind has been reduced to a useless mess, still somersaulting through all the information it had soaked up over the evening.

"Oh, you're not Dwight," Pam answers her door with a muted gasp.

"Thank god," Jim flashes her a crooked, careful grin.

She responds with a smile that stretches her cheeks. "Thank god," she finally echoes after a few too many beats have passed. The rims of her eyes are slightly pink and he has to explicitly instruct his hands to remain at his side and not reach for her.

There's another pause. "You're not potato salad either," she murmurs. He quirks his head at her gently and she shakes her own. "Something Dwight said," she adds.

"Elaborate, please?" His tone is light and he kind of hates that they're talking about Dwight because this conversation feels monumental.

She shrugs her shoulders a little. "He said he might have trouble making it because Michael made him eat the potato salad to prove to David Wallace wrong."

Then again, he might love that _Dwight_ being an idiot is the catalyst to rekindle their easy conversation. Somehow, the way they're talking now is less guarded than every other interaction they've had recently. Even so, it's not quite as comfortable as it once was… There's a hesitation behind her gaze.

Jim gapes at her. "I'm not sure what they were proving," she wrings her hands nervously and it stings a little that he can see the question she's not asking, _why are you here_?

"Pam," he twists his lips upwards in the making of an almost genuine smile. "I know what they were proving." He's suddenly conscious that they're having the most inane conversation in her doorway and she's worried enough about Roy to call _Dwight_. He's looking for the least intrusive way to say _let me in and lock the door behind us_ when he realises that she must be thinking the same thing.

She shuffles to the side of the doorway a little and ushers him in, "well, you have to come inside and tell me."

He tries not to brush up against her and tries to brush up against her because he just can't help himself all in the same movement. It leaves him jerkily stepping over the threshold, throwing his hands out in a what-can-you-do motion, "I'm afraid this sordid tale will surprise you and not surprise you all at the same."

"I live in anticipation," Pam deadpans. And it hits him how much he's missed this, just talking to her about nothing. They're certainly had their fair share – nay, far more than their share – of conversations about baffling things that their co-workers from the office have done.

"Michael managed to get the cocktail party cancelled."

Pam nods like this information is no surprise. He's struck by how hard he's been fighting to turn _it _off. The switch has defaulted back to on now that he's no longer hiding behind Karen. It hits him anew. He _loves_ this girl standing before him with tired eyes and a worn t-shirt. He drinks her in for a moment before remembering that he's supposed to be talking. He drags his eyes from their steady perusal of her body to rise back to her face. Her cheeks pinken with the hint of a blush as she watches him watching her. God, she's beautiful. He just –

She clears her throat gently and he shakes his head and blinks slowly in an attempt to refocus.

"How you ask?" he pauses for dramatic effect this time, not because he can't tear his thoughts away from the girl in front of him, although that's still at play. Pam steps further into the room and gestures to the sofa settled against the wall. Jim unceremoniously plants himself on it. "Michael gifted David Wallace with food poisoning," his face crinkles as he grins.

"In the form of potato salad," Pam supplies. "Oh, Dwight…" her hand drifts to her mouth and she shakes her head.

"His loyalty to Michael certainly comes at a cost."

Pam scrunches up her face. "All his bodily fluids?" she guesses.

"Pam. Please. That's not an image I want," he cringes theatrically. "Ouch," he adds as the movement flares his swollen jaw back to life.

His wince seems to jolt Pam back to the reality of the evening. She sighs and eyes him carefully. He feels some of the carefree tone of their chatter slip away. He quietly watches on as she drifts to the kitchen and rifles through the freezer. After a moment she emerges with a bag of peas that she wordlessly hands to him.

He presses the peas to his face and grimaces a little. She settles on the edge of the sofa. He can't help but notice that she's careful not to touch him. He doesn't know what that means. How she's still a mystery to him after all this time baffles him somewhat. He wonders if he'll ever feel like he has her completely figured out. He certainly wants the opportunity to try.

They sit in silence. Pam stares intently at the edge of her rug. He takes a moment to run his eyes around the room. It's very Pam and he kind of loves it. It's neat and simple, but perfect at the same time. There's a watercolour of a teal green teapot over her kitchen sink and as his eyes lock on it he finds his nerve.

"I'm sorry, Pam."

She snorts. "I'm the one who should be sorry. It's all such a mess." She crushes her head into her hands. His treacherous fingers beg to reach out and brush her back, he stuffs them under his knees to regain a little control.

He's hit with a wave of uncertainty, that maybe she's sad that Roy ended things with her? Despite how many times he's also cycled through the words she uttered in the bar, he momentarily forgets that she is the one who uttered _this is over_.

"It's stupid. I was trying to be more honest. Have more courage. I think I was honest with the wrong person," her eyes drift from her floor to his face.

He waits her out and hopes she can't hear the way his heart is pounding out in unsteady desperation. "I should have been honest with you, Jim," a soft sigh follows her words. "Months ago… I should have reached out when I called off the wedding."

He shakes his head. "Maybe," he manages to choke out. "It wasn't fair of me to leave like that. I wish I'd given you more time."

She chuckles. It's an empty humourless noise. "Yeah. I didn't say I didn't…" she trails off, "just that I couldn't," she adds softly.

"I messed it all up."

She waves her hand in gentle dismissal. "I miss you, Jim. _You_ haven't really come back from Stamford."

He hangs his head. "Yeah," he mutters. "I want to… I – " he clears his throat, "I miss you too."

"Can we," she hesitates, tugging her bottom lip between her teeth nervously, "can we go back to being friends?"

He recoils. It's tangible, the taste of rejection swells in his throat. His eyes prick with hot, angry tears. His head drops. He can't look at her.

She curses. "Dammit, Jim."

He wants to glare at her. He wants to yell. He wants to storm out.

"You have a girlfriend," she hisses. "I can't. I can't ask for more than that when you have a girlfriend."

It's a slap in the face and a welcome relief all at once. That's what he had done last May. He'd asked for more when she couldn't give it to him. But now –

"I don't," he manages to grit.

"Oh," pops from her lips.

He drags his head from where it has dropped into his hands to chance a glance at her. Her eyes are bright, cheeks deliciously pink. As he watches her face splits into a grin. He carefully meets her gaze and her smile spreads further still. "What do you want, Pam?" he begs.

"You," she answers without hesitation. "I want you."

He's been rolling with the punches – literally in this evenings instance – so often lately that it takes him a moment to register that this is what it feels like when something goes his way.

Pam is looking at him with hopeful, wide eyes. He pauses for the briefest of seconds to commit the lilt of her face to memory. His gaze settles on her lips and they part ever so slightly as he watches, a sliver of pink darting out to moisten them.

It's enough to set his pulse racing. His stomach twists in delightful anticipatory knots. He shifts towards her, his knees pressing into her thigh as he turns his body on the small sofa. His head drifts forward and apparently that's the invitation she's been waiting for. Her small hands are suddenly wrapped in his hair and her lips are locked with his.

This kiss is nothing like casino night. She pushes past the seal of his lips to slip her tongue into his mouth. She tastes eager and excited. The contrast is steep. It was sharp on his tongue the last time, a swirl of bitterness and fear radiating from her lips. This time it's sweet. There's no tang, there's no pang of regret, it's all sunshine.

His mind hands control back over to his wayward arms. They're free to do what they've been longing to do since he laid eyes on the soft and open version of Pam framed by the doorway. His fingers trace delicate patterns over her back, her shirt rides up as she cants towards him and he finds his hands drift under the hem to grip her hips.

She shivers under his touch and utters this delightful little moan that sets him on fire. He wants her. He presses her closer and she comes willingly, pliant in his arms. Her hands drop from his hair to caress his sides. She tugs his shirt from his pants and then her cool hands are on his skin and he's dying in the best way possible. Pam's hands grip his bare shoulders and his heart jolts painfully in his chest.

She rips her lips from his. "I love you," she pants. "I'm in love with you, Jim," and her mouth is back on his and he's seeing stars. He hasn't known happiness until this moment. It's everything.

He wakes tangled in her sheets. Her arm is draped over his chest. He's feeling ridiculously sappy. He has to bite down on his lip to keep the tears that threaten to spring forth in. It's just too much. He doesn't deserve to feel this joy.

It takes him a moment to realise he's awake because she's tracing lazy patterns on his skin. "We have work," she murmurs, sensing him stir.

He groans, but it's less about the prospect of work and more about all the other parts of him she's woken up with the gentle press of her fingertips painting his body. He feels her grin against his arm as she registers the impact she's having. "Shower?" she suggests brightly.

"Mmm. Let's do out bit for the environment?" he presses his lips to hers in greeting.

She hums agreeably. "Conservation is important."

It's funny, she doesn't seem so keen to conserve water after all as they spend more than the environmentally friendly allocated time under the steam. It's only when the hot water runs out that they emerge, eyes shining and smiles wide.

They're late for work.

Jim walks into the breakroom to find Kevin in the midst of a dramatic retelling of their Thursday night. His friend winces as he takes in Jim's purpled jaw.

"You think this is bad, you should see the other guys fist," Jim shrugs with a chuckle.

Dwight rounds on him with a huff. "Dammit, Jim. I should have been there. I would have defended you. I always, always carry pepper spray."

"Sure, Dwight," Jim murmurs as he shares an exaggerated eyeroll with Kevin.

Dwight glares at him and strides from the room with a dismissive headshake, muttering to himself about Jim's foolishness.

Jim meets Kevin's eyes. "Dwight and pepper spray," he shakes his head, with a mock shudder.

"Yeah," Kev laughs, "I doubt you would have been better off with Dwight around."

"Can you imagine?" Jim scoffs. "Thanks for having my back, man."

"So, Pam, huh?" Kev's brows rise.

Jim feels a smile spread. "Yep, Pam." He gets a little lost in his thoughts, only to be dragged kicking and screaming back to reality to find Kevin miming breasts over his own chest and nodding his head approvingly.

Kevin shuffles away, maintaining his stance until he hits the breakroom door. Jim hears him chortle and murmur, "niiiice," as he drifts back to his desk.

He's still groaning when Pam steps into the breakroom. She wordlessly pours him a mug of coffee. She hands it to him, her other hand brushing between his shoulder blades soothingly. "Dwight just gave me a can of pepper spray," she whispers in his ear.

"If he offers you potato salad, pass."

A laugh escapes, before her expression turns serious. "Jim, it would be rude not to accept."

"I'd much prefer Dwight think I'm rude than the alternative," he punctuates his words with an exaggerated shudder.

She pauses for a moment and when she answers her tone is light, but her eyes twinkle with genuine warmth. "I'm glad David Wallace had better manners than you."

His face splits into a crooked smile. "Me too."

The more he thinks about it, the more it makes perfect sense that of course it's down to Dwight and Michael's inherent Dwight and Michael-ness that his life falls into place.


End file.
